Sweet art

Once the preserve of the genteel older generation, high tea - complete with scones, finger sandwiches and dainty desserts - has turned into the glamorous repast of the day, writes Natalie Craig.

February 26, 2012 — 3.00am

A friend of mine loves strolling past the windows of an old Melbourne tea house and observing the couples having ''high tea''. He says that while the women are in paradise, their husbands look like hostages and watching their grimaces makes him rejoice in his freedom.

But this gruesome vision of high tea as the stuffy pastime of conservative women and their unlucky spouses is being transformed. A decade ago, only a handful of upmarket hotels and tea rooms served the afternoon repast of tea, scones, finger sandwiches and sweets. Now, there are more than 20 high teas in Melbourne, many of which are aimed at a much cooler crowd.

They include swanky gourmet high teas and those that incorporate other activities, such as massages, manicures, craft or photography. One of the most liberal interpretations is the ''garden party'' at rooftop bar Madame Brussels, where hip young men and women down jugs of punch and eat old-fashioned treats such as sausage rolls and cupcakes.

The Melbourne Food and Wine Festival is also featuring six high-tea events next month, including a champagne-fuelled ''Parisian'' tea at new restaurant PM24 and a tongue-in-cheek ''Fitzroyal-Tea'' at Southpaw on Gertrude Street.

Festival director Natalie O'Brien says young people are always looking for new ways to indulge and high tea is hitting the spot. ''It ties in to the vintage trend,'' she says. ''Everything old is new again. Many of these new versions are also going to involve a really happening cocktail or a beautiful glass of bubbles - just something especially decadent.''

In an effort to explore the trend ahead of the festival, I contacted five of the newest venues and sampled their high teas ''with a twist'' over a weekend. When possible, I took a friend along for the gorging and while some, we agreed, were the paragon of girlieness, others might just be hip enough to attract willing men.

THE WAITING ROOM

First stop was celebrity chef Neil Perry's Waiting Room bar, which opened in October 2010 in the foyer of Crown Towers and started serving tea in October last year.

It uses the British terms, serving ''afternoon tea'' between noon and 5pm and a heavier ''high tea'' between 5pm and 9pm. (Australians, I learnt, misuse the term ''high tea'' to refer to any formal afternoon meal; in fact, it was originally taken by servants at a high table later in the evening. British hotels such as The Savoy and The Ritz serve fancy ''afternoon teas'' - not ''high tea''.)

High tea at The Waiting Room.

Our round table faces the opulent lobby and we amuse ourselves by watching the guests. Some wear white sneakers and khaki pants, others are dressed to thrill, including a tall woman in denim shorts, wedge heels, an orange leather jacket and sunglasses.

A wall divides us from the main bar, which is supposed to be reminiscent of 1950s Hollywood, with its pale leather lounges, mirrored mosaic tiles and red carpet. Our waiter is a thoughtful lad named Will, who looks jazzy with side-swept hair, suspenders and brogues. He brings champagne, an outstanding gin punch with a chamomile tang and a three-tier silver tray.

There are but nine teeny treats each. The savouries include a waldorf salad sandwich with a creamy chicken, walnut and celery filling; a fancy cheese-and-ham toastie; and a miniature version of Perry's wagyu ''slider'' burger. The sweets - a violet eclair, passionfruity tart and caramel tart - are among the best I've had.

We both drink two cups of the smooth ''silver needle'' and more robust ''Yunnan gold'' Jing tea. I ask a waitress about the high-tea clientele. ''Mostly women and a lot of hens' do's - but quite classy ones,'' she says. ''We have had a male twosome. They really got into the punch.''

Where: Crown Towers foyer, Southbank

Cost: High tea or afternoon tea is $42; $65 with a glass of champagne or gin punch

MAMOR

I hear about Mamor from Michelle Milton, a young tea connoisseur who writes a blog called High Tea Society. ''It's exquisite,'' she tells me. ''Everything [is] home-made and the host is a real character.''

She's right. The Hungarian proprietor, Hanna Frederick, welcomes us like old friends to her baroque ''szalon'' (salon) in the front room of a Victorian terrace, which is decorated with crimson walls, plush antique divans and gilt mirrors.

She urges us to sit together on one of the lounges and her humour puts my husband instantly at ease. She explains that ''mamor'' is the Hungarian word for ''ecstasy'' and, while she has no formal training as a chef, her sensual nature means she knows instinctively what tastes good.

''I don't wear the chef's high hat; I wear the low top instead,'' says the 64-year-old in her exotic accent, shimmying her ample bust and laughing. ''Sexy, sensual and classy is what I like.''

Frederick, a self-trained chocolatier and former food chemist, started serving her version of a Hungarian ''zsur'', or tea party, a year ago as an adjunct to her artisan-chocolate business. The small space can seat no more than 15 and guests must book ahead.

We're served champagne, brewed tea, a small plate of excellent home-made savouries (including chicken liver mousse and lipto cheese pate) and a three-tier tray stacked with more goodies.

A highlight is the Hungarian potato scones, or pogacsa, fresh from the oven and washed down with a warm glass of asparagus soup. We eat the English scones with cream and home-made jams, including an unusual orange variety that is less sugary than marmalade.

To finish, we're offered a selection of Frederick's exquisite chocolates. We try plum slivovitz (dark chocolate with prunes soaked in brandy) and the strawberry and black-pepper ganache, both of which are smooth, unusual and not overly sweet or rich.

We're given plenty of time to chat and eat. Before we leave, Frederick tells us about her range of ''aphrodisiac'' chocolates, made with a herb known to stimulate the libido and set in Kama Sutra-inspired moulds. My husband is highly entertained and talks about Frederick all the way home.

''So would you go there with your mates?'' I ask. ''No way,'' he says. ''But I'd bring you back … Thinking man's foreplay,'' he reasons.

THE IMAGE SUPERSTORE

The next morning, I head to the Image Superstore, a vast white studio and cafe housed in a former car dealership in North Melbourne.

It's an unlikely place for high tea but the store has carved out a niche since opening in May, offering the repast as part of its ''vintage glamour'' makeovers and photo shoots.

I arrive alone dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, expecting simply to interview the manager. Instead, I'm ambushed. ''Don't worry, we'll make you perfect,'' says the studio's eccentric creative director Orlando Sanpo as he shepherds me towards the make-up chair.

I submit for the sake of the story but decline the offer of sparkling wine, accepting a coffee instead. Make-up artist Evelyn Rivera sets to work while a hairstylist starts curling my hair with tongs.

I ask Rivera, who is also the studio manager, why high tea has been paired with glamour photography. ''Both are something from days gone by, so they sort of go together,'' she says. ''We're also trying to reintroduce quality photography. Imagery is losing its value these days; anyone can take a photo on their iPhone and retouch it.''

With my 1950s hair and make-up, I'm whisked away for a photo shoot with former advertising photographer Steve Diffey. There are two pairs of women going through the same process and I'm worried I look a bit friendless and awkward. But Diffey is a master of distraction and misdirection, prompting me to laugh at myself and getting some great, spontaneous shots.

Finally, I sit down in the bright-but-casual cafe to high tea: mini gourmet pies and quiches, toasted sandwiches, warm scones, tarts and macarons. Near me, sisters Hani and Hana Panggestu, university students from Indonesia, giggle and say they weren't really sure what the experience would be like.

''We got a deal on the Groupon website,'' Hani says. ''It was just a good way to spend some quality time together and, yes, we like the vintage effect. The photos were nice.''

WHERE A GIRL GOES

After rushing home to flatten out my hair and remove the last traces of mascara, I drop in on Where a Girl Goes, the Collingwood showroom of Melbourne stationery designer Cristina Re.

The bright, L-shaped room is spacious enough to house both a cafe and a shop. Decor is French provincial - white, ornate and pretty.

I had been invited to bring a group of friends to experience the new ''High CreativiTea'' party, in which high-tea guests are given craft materials and advice to create invitations, scrapbooks, thank-you cards and other stationery. Alas, I'm unable to rally enough support among friends for a ''crafternoon'' at short notice and instead am treated to a sample of the high tea. Served on pastel-coloured china, it includes cupcakes, locally made macarons with creme fraiche (the best I've tasted), hand-crafted Belgian chocolates, gourmet sandwiches, quiche<!-- orginalstoryid:32620063 continue pg G12-->and scones with jam and cream.

''High tea here really has taken on a life of its own,'' says store manager Laura Quattrocelli. ''We get about 100 to 150 [patrons] through the store at the weekend. We've done 80th birthdays, baby showers, hens' nights. Even the people who aren't crafty enjoy it - it's just time to sit down and enjoy your friends' company without being hassled by some bloke in a bar.''

But what of the blokes? ''We do get some gay guys in. And the husbands and boyfriends, they know that bringing their partners here is a smart move.''

SPOIL ME HIGH TEA

I'm running late but decide to walk the long way around to the Terrace cafe in the Royal Botanic Gardens, intent on burning some energy before my final high tea.

It's a good idea. When I arrive, a glass of sparkling wine is waiting for me on the table, as is the obligatory three-tier tray. It holds sandwiches, mini sausage rolls, home-made scones, miniature cakes and chocolates.

My friend has already taken her seat and is chatting to a woman named Leigh, who has come by herself after winning tickets in a competition. ''It's my year of no regrets,'' she says. ''Last year was my year 'of me' - of looking after myself.''

It's an ethos I'm sure most of the women at the event would share. The ticket includes a 10-minute ''mini'' massage and a manicure.

Our host, Nina, invites each of the 20 or so guests to the massage and manicure stations over the course of the 2½ hours. The massage offers quick stress release. The manicure is executed swiftly and we're able to chat and sip our bubbly during its course.

We help ourselves to the selection of teas on a far table but my friend, a tea boffin, says she would have preferred an individual brew served at our table.

The Terrace itself is more casual than I was expecting - our group shares the high-ceilinged space with other visitors to the gardens, including children and parents with prams. But the laid-back atmosphere emboldens us to pinch a couple of stray glasses of bubbly from a vacated table and we chat and giggle like a couple of schoolgirls past the official finish time. ''I'm glad I didn't go to that one,''my husband says later.